Homesick
by do-the-unthinkable
Summary: It's been 4 years since Haru and Makoto last saw one another. Even before he cups his chin and starts to lean in closer, Haru knows that Makoto is going to kiss him. One-shot. MakoHaru. Yaoi. More Inside. Review!


**Title: Homesick**

**Author's Note**: What can I say? Recent obsession with Free! So, I've broken down and decided to write some smut for this fandom. Please, make sure you pay attention to my warnings. More from me at the end. Read on!

This is a _**ONE-SHOT**_!

**Pairing**: MakoHaru

**Rating**: NC-17

**Warnings**: AU, Future [After University], OoC, Smut, Yaoi

**Summary**: It's been 4 years since Haru and Makoto last saw one another. Even before he cups his chin and starts to lean in closer, Haru knows that Makoto is going to kiss him.

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**Disclaimer:**

I'm here to let you know that if I owned Free! there'd be a little more than just _swimming_ going on in the pool.

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They run into each other by chance, Haru on his way back home from visiting Rin for the first time in 4 years, and Makoto on his way into town to meet with some friends while he's in the country.

They almost don't see one another; Haru has gotten taller, more elegant and slender, to the point that Makoto almost doesn't recognise him. Makoto hasn't changed much, certainly not to the point that he's unidentifiable, but Haru is off in his own little world and doesn't snap out of it until he hears his name being called.

"Oi, Haru! Is that you?" Makoto comes jogging up to him and Haru's eyes widen in recognition.

"Makoto...?" He speaks hesitantly, a curious look on his face as he gives his old classmate the once over.

He mostly looks the same as he used to, though more tan, more muscular; that familiarly cute face of his now atop the body of a model.

Makoto breaks into the same blinding smile Haru remembers from their student days, and before he knows it, there's a strong hand clapping him on the shoulder.

"I can't believe it, it really is you! I thought you were in America. Weren't you aiming to become a swimming trainer?"

Haru sort of half-smiles, still somewhat reserved, but his eyes are completely devoid of that lost, haunted look he'd worn throughout their high school years.

"I've been there since graduation, up until a month ago. But I missed home. It's not as if I can't work as a trainer here."

"Hmm..." Makoto nods. "I only got back to Japan a week ago, and who knows when I'll be going away next. I need to visit all my family and friends while I'm here... Hey, you should come and have a drink with us! Remember Gou-chan and the others from high school? I was just off to meet up with them, and I bet they'd be happy to see you again."

Haru opens his mouth to decline; even thoug they were really 'just' friends after all, it'd feel awkward, and there's no reason for him to go. But Makoto already has him by the arm, guiding him in the direction of town before he can get the words out.

"I can walk by myself," he protests instead, and Makoto laughs heartily and lets go.

"You've changed a lot on the outside, but you're still the same on the inside, aren't you," he says, and earns a frown in response.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haru asks.

"Still the same independent loner from 4 years ago," Makoto replies. "But you look very different from how I remember. I almost didn't recognise you."

Haru shrugs, not sure how to answer that, and settles for changing the topic instead.

"You've hardly changed at all. You're a bit darker though. What've you been doing?"

Makoto beams, and even before he says anything, Haru can tell that whatever it is he's been doing with himself, he's proud of it.

"I've been in Australia for the past five months," Makoto says. "Remember how I was saving up to go to Africa? Well, I went and it was amazing, better than I'd even dreamed it'd be. When I got back, I showed Rei and Nagisa the photos I'd taken and they both were really impressed. Even Sasabe-san told me I should think about going professional and helped me talk to a few people. So now I get paid to travel around the world taking photos."

Haru's eyebrows rise.

"That's good, isn't it? Sounds like the kind of job you'd like. More suitable than being a doctor anyway. I'm not sure I'd trust my life in your hands."

"I never thought I'd be able to do this kind of thing back in school, but I'm glad I made it to where I am. Makes it impossible to get a girlfriend though," Makoto says, laughing in his usual goofy way and ignoring the jab.

Haru looks at him and then quickly looks away, the two of them falling silent. They both know what the other is thinking, but bringing it up seems a little awkward.

In the end, though, Haru's curiosity gets the better of him, and he asks, "Have you spoken to Hanamura-chan recently?"

Makoto clears his throat.

"Uh, no, not for a long time actually. After I got back from Africa we met up once, but after that, with my travelling and her studies..."

"You don't need to make excuses. I understand," Haru interrupts. "Isn't that how it usually goes with old classmates? You grow up, grow apart. It's normal."

"Yeah... What about you? Have you two seen each other since you got back?"

Haru nods. "We stayed in contact while I was overseas and we've been seeing one another regularly since I got back. So that means you don't know, I guess."

Makoto waits, expecting Haru to tell him what it is that he doesn't know like any normal person would, but Haru doesn't follow the comment up and Makoto is forced to ask by himself.

"Don't know what?"

"She's engaged."

Makoto looks like he'd been punched in the gut, though it seems to be more from shock than hurt. He's had all this time to move on, after all. A little bit of the feelings still remain – they usually does when it comes to unrequited love – but all in all, he's mostly surprised.

"You mean... to you?" He asks, and Haru actually laughs, quiet and short, but a real laugh none the less.

"No. She's been seeing the same guy from her university for over three years now, and they've been engaged for two months."

"And you're okay with that?" Makoto asks, as though he can't believe it.

In his head, Chigusa and Haru are still 18, still young and in love, without worldly experience or engagement rings or university graduation ceremonies. It confuses him, these 4 years of change packed into a five minute explanation. Too fast, too sudden, and he can't process it; Haru all grown up into a delicate beauty and Chigusa-chan about to get married.

"If I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't have gone away in the first place. I didn't expect her to wait for me," Haru says, but his choice of words make Makoto think that the news had hurt him a little too, at least at first. Then again, maybe not. Who knew with him?

They meet up with Makoto's friends, a mixture of new and old faces, and after getting a few drinks into him Haru can't quite remember why he'd been so eager to refuse the invitation at first. The alcohol loosens him up, and he converses naturally, less like getting blood out of a stone and more like a normal young man.

He's a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drink, though, and so by the end of the night he's almost asleep on the table, despite having put away only half as much as everyone else.

"Someone needs to get him home," someone says, either Nagisa or new-guy-with-leather-jacket. He isn't sure which.

It doesn't quite register that they're talking about him either, until Makoto is helping him out of his chair and on to his feet.

"I don't need any help," he insists, almost falling over despite the helping hand, ignoring the burst of laughter from the rest of the group. Makoto chuckles along with them as he holds him steady.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you. You really can't handle your drink at all. Come on, I'll take you home."

"Fuck you," Haru mumbles, but doesn't fight too much as Makoto hoists him up onto his back, because it's warm and comfortable and less work than standing.

Makoto smells nice, like peach shampoo and lemon fabric softener, and Haru unconsciously buries his nose further into his hair to breathe it in.

"Do you need to go home or can we just go back to my place?" Makoto asks once they're outside. "Because I can carry you back to mine, but not all the way to yours and I'm not paying for a taxi."

"Your parents mind?" Haru manages to ask groggily, hoping he'll be understood.

"I live on my own now," Makoto replies. "And I don't mind putting you up for the night. It's cheaper that way."

Haru nods against his shoulder, eyes half open.

"Okay," he says, and winds his arms a little more securely around Makoto's neck.

He must have fallen asleep on the walk home, because the next time he opens his eyes, Makoto is unlocking the door to his apartment, and Haru's head feels considerably clearer.

"I think I can stand on my own now," he says, and it's lucky that it's true, because Makoto drops him from shock.

"I thought you were asleep," he says, in way of apology when Haru curses at him. "It's not my fault."

Haru exhales irritably, but he can't very well insult the person who's putting him up for the night, and so he lets it go.

Makoto lets him flop down on the couch in his tiny lounge while he gets the spare futon ready, and Haru waits there, taking in what little there is to see.

It's very sparse, a small television, a rug and the couch the only furnishings in the room, but Haru figures it's enough if Makoto's only here every once in a while. He imagines the rest of the little apartment is very similar, with only the bare essentials, and he thinks that it doesn't really suit Makoto at all. He's never been a real minimalist in any sense of the word.

The couch is rather comfy, however, and Haru dozes off again while he's waiting, head lolling to the side and mouth slightly parted.

He's a little disoriented when Makoto wakes him up again, telling him that his futon is ready and that they can go to bed now.

"Okay," Haru says, blinking dumbly, but he doesn't get up, still half asleep.

Makoto rolls his eyes and grabs him by the hand, pulling him to his feet. Haru isn't expecting it, and trips over nothing, saved only by Makoto's quick reflexes. His arms come up around Haru's back, clutching him to his chest until he's steady again.

Haru expects him to let go; expects them to go to bed, and then get up in the morning and part ways, perhaps not seeing one another for another 4 years. But he doesn't. Makoto keeps holding him, a little tighter than necessary, and his chest is heaving with heavy, nervous breaths.

"You can let go now," Haru says, and his voice sounds far away to his own ears.

He resists the urge to shiver, because Makoto is staring at him very strangely, with a look Haru can't remember ever having seen on his face back when they were in school together.

"You're prettier than I remember you being," Makoto says in a thick voice, rich like melted butter and honey.

He brushes a lock of hair from Haru's forehead, and even before he cups his chin and starts to lean in closer, Haru knows that Makoto is going to kiss him.

Their lips drag together, sluggish and slow, Makoto's tongue tentatively brushing against the ridge of Haru's lips, but never going any further.

It's over quickly, in a blur of confusion and surging emotions, and when they part, Haru isn't sure what to do.

"What was that?" He asks, voice a little shaky, with none of the calm confidence he usually has.

Makoto bites his lip and looks away, cheeks colouring rapidly.

"You're pretty like a girl," he says, and Haru freezes for a moment before gathering all his strength and shoving Makoto across the room.

He crashes into the wall, unharmed, but sliding to the floor from the force. Haru immediately feels guilty, anger from having his masculinity challenged immediately gone now that he's reasserted it.

"Sorry," he says a little gruffly, going to offer Makoto a hand up, but Makoto just glares at him and slaps his outstretched hand away, struggling to his feet by himself and punching Haru in the arm. It's not a particularly hard punch, he's definitely been hit with worse, but the sentiment behind it is still there.

"I said I was sorry!" He spits as Makoto shoves him up against the wall.

They grapple for a bit before finding themselves both on the ground, and Makoto is stronger than Haru remembers and it takes him by surprise. Makoto sits on top of him, pinning Haru to the ground, holding his hands above his head to prevent him from fighting back.

"You," Makoto says, between heavy breaths, "may look like a pretty girl, but you're still a stubborn boy with a bad attitude."

And then he kisses him again, harsh and forceful, a new kind of challenge to which Haru responds, even though he doesn't want to. With his arms pinned above his head there's little he can do other than wriggle beneath Makoto's weight and try to buck him off. He does so, but is taken by surprise when Makoto moans and grinds down against his leg. Haru feels it then, Makoto's erection hard against his thigh, and wishes it was a wave of repulsion rather than a wave of arousal that he finds himself trying to fight down.

He can't hold back his shiver this time, especially not when Makoto lets go off his wrists and slips a hand up and under his shirt, tickling along his skin until he finds a nipple. It instantly goes hard under the touch, and Haru has to bite back a moan of his own; it comes out as a breathy sigh instead, not much better in itself, especially not when Makoto smiles at him triumphantly.

Haru wants to wipe the smug look off his face.

He rolls his hips up against Makoto's, and the smile is immediately gone, replaced by parted lips and closed eyes as Haru rubs up against his cock.

"Never took you for a gay," Haru mutters, not stopping the rhythmic motions of his hips. Makoto doesn't seem to mind, grinding down to meet him.

"It doesn't count when you look so much like a woman," Makoto replies, voice all breath. "What's your excuse?"

"Fuck you," Haru answers primly, grabbing Makoto's shirt in his newly freed hands and tearing it open, right up the middle.

Buttons scatter in all directions, skittering against the wooden floor. Makoto doesn't make any comment on his ruined shirt, laughing softly into Haru's hair instead.

"Not going to happen. _I_ might fuck _you_ though," he says, but it's not a taunt, almost sounds conversational.

Haru wants to come up with a clever retort, but the realization that he wants it to happen, that he wants Makoto to spread his thighs and touch his cock and fuck him against the floor, stops him.

It's true; he doesn't have an excuse, not for the way he can't tear his eyes from Makoto's firm stomach and abs, or the way the sight of his toned body is making him feel hotter.

Maybe he really is gay. Wouldn't that be deliciously ironic; discovering that little bit of information about himself 4 years later with his rival in love from high school. He pushes the thought to the back of his head, not wanting to Makoto to be correct, even if Haru will never let him have the satisfaction of knowing it.

He's already unbearable enough right now, whispering about how he knows Haru wants it, how he can just _tell_ that he wants it, and Haru wants to argue right up until the point when Makoto crawls down between his legs and nuzzles his cock through his pants. After that, arguing doesn't seem very practical anymore.

Makoto unbuckles Haru's belt, pulling down his pants to his ankles along with his boxers, and Haru has to try not to cry out when a warm mouth envelops his erection, sucking him in. He lets his head fall back – not that he has much choice – and his hips jerk up, whining when Makoto grabs them and holds them still so Haru doesn't accidentally choke him.

"Ma…Makoto," he groans, embarrassed when he realizes that it's Makoto's name that has just spilt from his lips, but Makoto doesn't seem to mind.

He swallows around Haru's cock, making obscene, wet noises as he does, and then Haru doesn't care what name he calls anymore, just as long as he keeps doing that.  
His fingers search for something to grip, nails scraping at the wooden floor because he doesn't want to bury his fingers in Makoto's hair and make it seems like he wants _him_ rather than his talented mouth.

He almost snarls when Makoto pulls off him, but settles for looking vaguely grumpy as he leans over to grab his bag and searches through it for something. He pulls out a small bottle of hand lotion and waves it at Haru.

"This is all I have." There are a lot of unspoken questions in the action; is it okay? Is it okay with just this? Do you really want it?

Haru just says, "Alright". It's easier this way for both of them. Makoto doesn't have to let on that he's concerned about hurting him, and Haru doesn't have to show that he actually wants to do this. This way, they're both just satisfying their needs without caring about each other or anticipating something they shouldn't be.  
Makoto drops his pants to the floor and hands the lotion to Haru.

"You know what to do with it?" He asks, and Haru gives him a withering look.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out," he says, sitting up and snatching the bottle from Makoto's hand, flipping the cap open. He squeezes it over his fingers, and then reaches down between his legs, frowning at Makoto again. "Can you please not watch this?"

Makoto smiles.

"What do you want me to do then?" He asks, and Haru shrugs.

"Whatever you want, just stop staring. It's weird."

Makoto snorts, but looks away as asked, and Haru finally presses a finger against his rim and slowly slides it inside. He gasps at the sensation, rocking his hips down to feel more, and almost forgets that there's anyone else in the room until Makoto steps right in front of him, the wet tip of his hard cock right in front of Haru's face.

"What are you doing?" Haru asks tersely when Makoto puts a hand on his head, tipping it back.

"I'm doing what I want and not staring," Makoto replies, urging Haru's mouth towards his erection. "You can multi-task, right?"

Haru knows it's bait, but he takes it anyway, because fair is fair, and Makoto had sucked him off earlier. He slides his tongue out from between pink lips and licks the head, taking pleasure in the resulting slow hiss of air that comes from Makoto's mouth. He buries his finger a little deeper in himself as he does, adding a second at the same time he takes Makoto's cock between his lips, sucking it purposefully as he rides his own hand.

Makoto grabs him by the hair and holds tight, moaning softly as Haru bobs up and down on him. He strokes what he can't fit in his mouth with one hand, and Makoto shivers with arousal, knowing exactly what he's doing with the other.

Haru has three fingers inside himself, bouncing on them wantonly, by the time that Makoto forces himself to pull out, knowing he won't last any longer if he lets Haru keep sucking him like that.

Haru takes the hint and removes his fingers, watching as Makoto grabs the lotion and coats his own cock. He considers looking away to be polite and fair, but since he doesn't receive a complaint, he doesn't bother.

He wonders if they're going to go to bed to do it, or at least to the couch, but no, Makoto sits down on the floor and beckons Haru to come and sit in his lap.

"You can ride me," he says breathlessly, seemingly aroused by the very thought, and Haru can't say that he isn't either as he clambers gracelessly atop Makoto.

He straddles him and Makoto takes his cock in one hand, guiding Haru down with the other, until the head of his cock is up against Haru's rim.

Haru bites his lip, but other than that, doesn't show any sign of nervousness and so Makoto presses in. It doesn't hurt as much as Haru had expected, more of a burning, pulling and stretching sensation than sharp or stinging. Makoto is careful and slow, murmuring 'tight' and 'hot' as he pushes in, and Haru abandons all pride as he clings to his shoulders, trying to relax and make it easier for both of them.

He lets out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding once Makoto is all the way inside him, and he clenches his ass just to test how it feels.

"Oh fuck…" Makoto moans, one hand on the small of Haru's back, "Fuck, Haru."

"Say it again," Haru breathes, figuring that they're beyond pretences and bravado now.

Makoto repeats the name, testing it out, and Haru moans at the mere sound of it, leaning back in his lap and rolling his hips.

"Haru," Makoto says again. "Haru, ride me."

Haru complies, starting out slow, but eventually gains confidence and he bounces up and down on Makoto's cock, encouraged by his noises and the lewd slap of skin against skin. His own cock smacks against his stomach as he moves, and Makoto takes it in his hand, giving it firm strokes that have Haru groaning his name over and over again. Makoto thrusts up to meet him as he gets closer and closer to orgasm, the rhythm of his hand faltering and becoming erratic.

Haru comes first, letting go in Makoto's hand and all over his chest, and Makoto continues to fuck him even after Haru comes down from his orgasm, unable to do anything but go along with it until he feels Makoto come inside him.

He collapses into Makoto's embrace once he pulls out of him, too tired and boneless to worry about pride now. They lie there together, nothing but the sound of their harsh breathing filling the room, until Makoto whispers sleepily to him, "We should shower."

"Ugh," is all Haru can manage, aptly summing up both their feelings on the concept of moving. However, he manages to heave himself up and totters to a standstill on shaky legs before offering Makoto a hand. He actually takes it this time, and Haru pulls him up onto unsteady feet.

They both shower – individually – and crawl into their own separate beds once they're clean and dry.

It's a little awkward, neither of them able to fall asleep, but neither of them able to think of anything to say either. "So, do you fuck guys often? Because you sure seemed to know what you were doing" or "That was fun" don't seem like very appropriate conversation starters, but they can't just pretend everything is normal. Not after that.

Haru is so caught up in thinking about how there can't possibly be anything to say that he almost has a heart attack when Makoto finally speaks.

"When I said you looked like a girl before, I wasn't being serious," he says, sounding drowsy. "But you… well, you are pretty. I wasn't lying about that."

"Ah… thanks," Haru replies, a little embarrassed. He's never been good at exchanging compliments. "You've… you've grown up too. You're looking good."

They fall back into silence, but now it feels a little less uncomfortable, a bit more like they've just grown closer, and as Haru drifts off to sleep, he catches himself thinking that choosing to come back to Japan may be the best decision he's ever made.

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**A/N:** So, there we have it. Something… er, well. Don't mind me, I'm just glad you decided to take the time to read this fic! Hah, it's probably not as bad as it seems. Anyway, Thanks for reading! I decided to switch fandoms for a little while because I'm a little irritated right now with a story I just wrote so, here we are! Please send me some love in a review, guys. I live for those things. No flames, though. Or I'll find you and eat you for breakfast.

**Read, Review, and Move On! **


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